Delighting in the freedom of language
takes me away from the mind's mundane
subjectivity and leads me toward what is
deeper in our psyche of communication,
into anticipating a surrealist free-flowing
complexity of thought.

Without convention, but leaning on
imaginatve logic, words are available
in our conception or supply.

Here we may experience what our
precursors felt, a sense of what animates
their time, geography and history, personal
and universal.

In a flash from screen or pen, we live in a
subtle cerebral complexity of the moment
when prophecy, rhetoric, speech. voice, tone,
exclamation, impulse, experience and sound,
sentences us to a release in rhythmic freedom.

To begin afresh, without self-censorship or suspicion of repetition or routine presumption is the task. 

It's to be daily in love with words, without any prejudice where language will take you beyond yourself.

Unrefined, yet outlined with a sensual or spiritual context formalizes our own existence.


A preoccupation with ear-drums of speech churns, then burns the early flame of our own revelations and development.

We build our archives from our own unplanned indebtedness to speak what is unorthodox and paradoxical in our subconscious, which is always mysterious, a marvel, and miraculous.

I woke with a creativity for poetry.

Beginning with a blank slate into the soul with ready writing unknown keys leading me by the spirit realm.

I wonder how David, Homer, Sappho, Milton Donne, Blake, Yeats, Eliot, Tate, Lowell,  Bishop, Auden experienced their own spirituality.

What windows and fenestration peers out of shadowy outlines from one's own frustration and opens up those outlines transmogrified into poems. 

I am working on a new one act play in a B,Z. absurdist non-formulaic way. The play came to me in dialogue during a dream and I took all the three parts.

In the morning I wrote out the scene, reading the parts and then revising, reminding me of days past when I used to write a play a week and produced several with great reputable directors who have gone on in the theatre and film world.

I miss the Original Theatre, meeting with so many idealistic actors and directors who always had good suggestions, but some nights I play psychiatrist when fear enveloped an actor. Yet it was a special sanguine time of artistic creation.